The Knots We Tie
by TheSoliloquy
Summary: "When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on" -Thomas Jefferson. This is the way it ends, these are the knots we tie, and these are the friends we lose.


**.**

_"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on."_

**-Thomas Jefferson**

**.  
**

Erica used to love the rain; as a child she would pull on her wellies and run out into the downpour, screaming with joy as she splashed through puddles. Now, nobody wants to be outside when it rains, not any more. They'd found out the first time the red sky cried, when the raindrops poured down and down, tearing through people, leaving any poor soul outside a disfigured shriveled body; there was skin ripped from bodies, eyeballs melted inside skulls, and even the corpses of small children decaying upon the pavements, their insides turned to mush as their blood slowly drained down into the gutters.

Now, on the rare occasion that Erica does go outside, she's sure to watch the red sky for any hint of rain, always keeping close to buildings and reinforced shelters built in various places for the sole purpose of refuge from the rain. The Visitors blame the acid rain on the gluttonous and energy-consuming life of the Humans themselves, but Erica knows otherwise.

* * *

Lisa is anxious as she talks, delicate hands fiddling with her clothes as they listen intently to her words. Erica knows that she's young, Visitor or not, and the task of informing an FBI agent, a ruthless mercenary and a catholic priest of their friend's relapse into dispassion is a little more than daunting. Hobbes doesn't help much, just slides back into his snarky disposition.

"Well, the lizard's gone… so, what about his girl and lizard junior?"

Before replying, Lisa looks to Erica, seeming to require some assurance. Erica just nods.

* * *

Tyler's not listening to her, must be his teenage stubbornness.

"Tyler, listen to me!" Erica demands firmly, pulling him around to face her, "I mean it, Ty. _Be careful._"

"Mom, there's _nothing _to worry about. The Visitors haven't done anything wrong!"

"Nothing wrong? Look outside, Ty, the sky turns red _after_ they arrived and you honestly believe it's nothing to do with them?"

He simply scowls and stalks away. '_Damn puberty_' Erica thinks.

* * *

They hear about Chad Decker's death on the news one Wednesday evening, down in the church basement whilst discussing their next move. Hobbes is throwing his last dagger at a makeshift target when he stops abruptly and turns to the TV, also drawing their attention to the ruffled and wind-beaten reporter, stood beneath the Mothership.

'Award winning reporter Chad Decker, responsible for the coverage of the Visitors, has been killed in what is rumoured to have been a random revenge killing by the Fifth Column…'

They later discover that Anna had found out Chad's true support of the resistance and had him killed.

"A shame, really." Hobbes nonchalantly muses afterwards, "Could've been useful for publicity…"

* * *

It isn't long before Anna then deems Tyler redundant, and Tyler's trust in the Visitors abruptly all but disappears- to Erica's relief, as does his teenage stubbornness. She stands at the St. Josephine door for him, with Jack sitting behind her in the empty church, both rigid with anticipation. He discreetly arrives with shoulders slumped in defeat, hood drawn over a baseball cap, pulled low over his face despite the sunglasses he wears. She moves aside, waiting for him to step gingerly into the church, before closing the doors and pulling him quickly into a bear hug. He hugs her timidly back, his mumbled 'hey, mom' stifled by her shoulder. After a few moments she releases him from the embrace, smiling gladly as Jack introduces himself before the three make their way to the basement.

"I'm afraid the basement isn't exactly 5 star," Jack admits honestly to Tyler, "and neither is Hobbes good company but-"

"Hobbes?" Tyler repeats in disbelief. Erica gulps discreetly.

"He's not a monster, Ty, don't worry." Erica reassures him, before backtracking slightly, "Well, maybe a little, but the point is he's one of us."

Tyler doesn't say anything, but his frown deepens to an almost irrevocable point as he follows Jack through the basement door. Hobbes looks up for a short moment from the computer screens, before looking back down with plain disinterest.

"Before you ask, no, I did not beat up your girl." He states blandly.

* * *

Erica can't remember the last time she'd had to pretend to cry… needless to say, it was proving very hard to do.

"I-I just wish our last conversation wasn't so-so harsh." She stutters, voice wobbling as she forces tears from her eyes, "I mean… how am I going to tell his father!"

A sickeningly gentle smile rests on Anna's lips as she puts a 'comforting' hand on her arm. It gives Erica the sudden desire to break her noise- oh, how beautifully it would squish beneath her knuckles- but she resists and simply disguises her disgust with a louder wail.

"There, there, Miss Evans." Anna soothes mildly.

'Resist, I must resist.' Erica thinks.

"Tyler's father will take it as any father would, you must tell him." Anna urges, cocking her head, "As a mother having lost many of her own children, I understand your pain Miss Evans, but you will get through this."

"I… I guess you're right, Anna."

_Miss Evans_ walks away with an even bigger need to drive a dagger through Anna's shrivelled black heart.

* * *

Lisa is stoic. She confuses Erica greatly by often shooting Hobbes' seething glares- that was usually Tyler's affair- but Erica carries on with the meeting regardless of this strange behaviour. By the time its Lisa's turn to speak she's almost quaking in wait, and wastes no time getting to her point.

"Someone in the fifth column is double-dealing." She states outright. Erica and Jack share a perturbed look as she continues, "I overheard Marcus and my mother talking; a resistance member has been working for Visitors all along… and he's in this very room."

It isn't hard at all for Erica to put two and two together, and her hand is already inching towards her gun as Jack asks the obvious 'who?'

"…_Kyle Hobbes_."

Hobbes' head snaps up at Lisa's cold words, his face passive but eyes betraying his surprise. All eyes flit to him, Tyler adopts an I-told-you-so look, and Hobbes shifts under the scrutiny. But he does not deny it.

In a matter of moments Erica has him shoved up against the wall, the barrel of her gun pressed firmly against his temple.

"We trusted you, Hobbes!" She snarls, not even bothering to wonder why Hobbes, the best fighter of them all, hasn't reversed their positions; he was capable of it, and with ease.

"You better have a good explanation for this, Hobbes." Jack snaps from behind Erica's shoulder, shaking with anger.

"I had no other choice-" Hobbes protests, but only earns himself a knee in the groin that has him doubled over.

"You better be joking with that trash, Hobbes." Erica keeps her gun level with him as he coughs, hands on knees, "How about I just put a bullet in you now and be done with it."

"_They have my daughter!_" He chokes defiantly, slowly straightening as Erica freezes, shocked, mentally debating whether or not he's telling the truth, "I… I couldn't risk her life."

* * *

The only thing beautiful about the red sky is the night. Erica's sat beside Jack on the church steps, the deep maroon above casting a slight red tint on everything from the puddles to the priest and the agent.

"Think he's telling the truth?" Jack murmurs to her, his eyes also on the heavenly clouds.

"Doesn't seem like something he'd lie about." Erica replies absent-mindedly, before changing topic, "It's almost beautiful tonight."

"It almost always is."

If it wasn't created by the Visitors, and didn't strike fear in the form of rain, Erica would almost say the red sky was a good thing. But then, that would be like saying the sky is only beautiful because of the Visitors. Nope, Erica much prefers blue.

* * *

Tyler spent the whole of yesterday demanding to be part of the action, using all the different types of puppy dog eyes he could just to persuade. Eventually, Hobbes had asked Erica to agree just to shut him up, and so she had. He's beside her now, looking smug and proud as he holds his gun at the ready, just as he'd practised back at the church. In truth, Erica's almost glad he's added to their numbers; today's a very important day, after all.

It's taken almost 5 months, but finally, they've found her. That she's a mere six-years old is what surprises them.

* * *

Tyler is playing with Hobbes' daughter- Cara, her name is, and she takes to Tyler like a house on fire. Hobbes is bemused by it, eyebrow cocked as he glances over at the pair from the white board, pen poised in hand. Erica stands beside him with Jack, and both follow his glance back to Tyler's bed where the young girl attempts to teach the teenager clapping games.

"No, you're doing it wrong!" Cara squeals, her hands small and petite against Tyler's, "Like this, Tyler!"

Tyler laughs, copying her movements with deliberate hesitation.

"Like this?"

And with the addition of Cara, the basement suddenly becomes a whole lot brighter.

* * *

"Am I going crazy?"

"No, no. I see it too."

Erica knows that she and Jack are probably gawking, but all the same, what they're gawking at is certainly a sight to behold: Hobbes showing his softer side. The church is empty, and from where the agent and the priest sit in the back pews they have full view. Cara is the happiest they've ever seen her, skipping along the aisle and singing nursery rhymes. Hobbes sits on the front pew, watching her, calling her back whenever she attempts to sneak onto the podium or creep towards the candles- as if he couldn't see her.

"Cara. Don't touch that, sweetie."

"He just said 'sweetie'" Jack whispers to Erica.

"I know, I heard." Erica replies in fascination as Cara retreats mischievously from the candles at her father's voice, grinning a toothy grin and running towards him.

He catches her in his arms and she squeals in delight as he tickles her, blowing raspberries on her stomach.

"Daddy, stop!" She giggles and, when he does, winds her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder as she lazily tracing circles on his shirt. After a few moments she turns to rest her cheek instead, and once noticing Erica and Jack, grins at them.

They grin back.

* * *

The bodies are rotten and the stench is almost unbearable, but Erica knows they weren't victims of the rain, as decayed as they are. No, the blatant bullet wounds are evidence of that. They move around the bodies silently, wondering what brought on this massacre, and Erica's disgust is only furthered when Tyler calls out.

"Er, you need to see this." He gulps as he tells them hesitantly.

For behind the right ear of each corpse is a 'v'.

* * *

Erica's palms are sweaty, her hands winding tighter around her gun as they burst into the room. Joshua lies semi-conscious in the med-chair, Marcus mid-snarl as he spins to face them. The guards dotted around the room are picked off swiftly and easily, but Marcus is saved for last, eyes wide and mouth open in plea as Hobbes pumps two bullets into his skull; funny, how the V's first emotions are at his death. Jack runs to Joshua, releasing him from the chair.

"You all right, son?" He asks, expert eyes running over Joshua's body for any immediate injuries.

"Yes…" Josh answers quietly, before looking around at the group, and with solid sincerity he simply says:

"Thank you."

* * *

Erica is watching Joshua. He's trying to hide it, but it seems to her that whatever that monster had done to him, Joshua would never forget it. Jack had added yet another bed and- despite the fact that Cara slept in her father's bed- they were beginning to crowd the basement. However, Joshua didn't seem to mind the over-crowdedness, and now just sits quietly on the edge of his bed, silently observing the opposite wall. Jack is stood behind Hobbes, peering over his shoulder at the computer screens as Hobbes explains something of little interest to Erica. Cara is sat in Hobbes' lap, a camera in her hands as she fiddles with it, a frown fixed on her angelic face. After a few moments she squirms around in her father's lap to look over his shoulder at Joshua. Erica smiles to herself as Erica slides off from Hobbes' lap and skips- for she never seemed to walk- over to Joshua. The silent fifth columnist looks up as she stops in front of him, camera in hand as she rocks back and forth excitedly on her heels.

"My name is Cara." She tells him, and a soft smile slowly spreads on his lips.

"My name is Joshua." He replies gently.

Cara beams at her success, holding up her camera.

"Do you know how to take pictures?" She asks him and he shakes his head.

"I have never tried." He admits and Cara beams again, all but shoving the camera into his hands.

"Try it!"

With a smile and a chuckle, Joshua takes a picture of a grinning and posed Cara, then shows her the result with enquiring raised eyebrows.

"That's okay, but you gotta practise to get real good." Cara tells him proudly and matter-of-factly, seeming to have already pegged the art to perfection, "Daddy says practise makes perfect."

* * *

Unfortunately, the major public backlash was inevitable. Anna was furious after hearing of her minion's demise, and once again Kyle Hobbes was given full blame.

Surprisingly, it's the younger Hobbes who brings this to their attention.

"Daddy, why are you on TV?"

All six immediately crowd around the screen.

"Wanted man Kyle Hobbes has claimed yet another life, but this time in the form of Visitor Leader Anna's right-hand man, Marcus. A ruthless terrorist with ties to the fifth column, Hobbes has been on the most wanted lists for the FBI for a very long time, and now it seems that just about every other government organisation from MI6 to the CIA have also added-"

Erica mutes the television. The elder five are silent for a few moments before Jack speaks.

"This is bad."

"Way to state the obvious, padre." Hobbes remarks.

But though the mercenary makes light of the situation, Erica can see his eyes flit anxiously to Cara. He's worried, afraid even, and Erica certainly doesn't blame him.

* * *

Hobbes is dead, two bullets in his chest and with his head cradled in the small lap of his sobbing daughter. She's still young, still innocent, through the tears still clutching onto her daddy's face as if she can bring him back to life, as if this was just another of those bedtime games he plays with her. He didn't have the time, or the strength, to say anything to her, wish her goodbye, tell her how much daddy loves his little girl. But the last thing he saw in life was his little girl's face and that's all that matters.

It's what he would have wanted.

* * *

Cara is still crying. They're back in the St. Josephine basement, and Tyler holds her small form, shaking against his chest as he tries in vain to comfort her. The others are quiet, Jack stands against the wall, head bowed, eyes closed and lips moving soundlessly as he rubs the rosary beads in his hand; Joshua simply sits slumped on his bed, eyes on his hands curled lightly in his lap. Erica doesn't even know what to do with herself. She doesn't know any prayers, and she certainly doesn't feel up to facing her thoughts.

But Joshua provides her a distraction when he suddenly stands, moving over to the metal-cage cabinet and rummaging through the shelves before emerging with a photograph. He takes it over to Cara and Tyler and sits down beside them.

"I have been practising photography," He tells her, drawing her attention to him as she lifts her face from Tyler's tear-stained shirt. Joshua holds out the photo, "just like you had told me to."

Tentatively, Cara takes the photo and holds it in her small fingers, sniffing as she looks down at it. Curious, both Erica and Jack move closer, peering over the trio's shoulders. A smile breaks out on their faces at the content: Hobbes is sat on his bed, smirking mid-conversation -one with Erica, she remembers it well- and asleep in his arms, curled against his chest is Cara.

Cara sniffs a last time, looking up at Joshua, a small smile breaking out on her lips. She leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Joshua."

* * *

Anna has been killed, finally. The rumours were that, over the months, Ryan Nichols had been retrieving his emotions, building them up into a thirst for vengeance. He'd confirmed for himself that Val's death was in fact a murder at Anna's commission.

So, under the guise of an emotionless V he got his chance, placed a dagger over Anna's shrivelled black heart and rammed it home- he fulfilled Erica's desire for her. There was no Marcus to stop him, just Lisa, who stood at the side and simply smiled as her mother died before her. For some reason, it pleases Erica that Anna died knowing that even her own daughter hated her.

* * *

Erica watches the sparse scatter of clouds move lethargically, each a stark white against the bright blue of the sky, the yellow sun a burning orb, shining down on the small children playing in the grass below.

As Anna's successor, Lisa is the new V leader, her right-hand Joshua as Ryan has disappeared with his child- Erica likes to think they're now living in rural California. She herself has quit the FBI, and now works to monitor the V's activities, and boost human relations as well as oversee the distribution of blue energy. She lives with Cara, now attending school on board, and Jack, who is no longer a priest, but a teacher of emotion to the V's, spreading the word of love in ways that didn't even have to involve God. And Tyler, well, if Lisa is a Queen then he is her King and Erica had accepted that long ago.

They keep photographs framed and displayed lovingly on a table in their luxurious quarter: Georgie, smiling and laughing with his wife and kids; the smirking Hobbes holding his sleeping little girl; Ryan and Val, the latter with her hand on her stomach as both beam happily at the camera.

Erica knows lives were lost: friends, lovers, fathers, but she also knows that each life is remembered and celebrated by those who knew them, just by living. So, whether it was a vengeful widow, or even a ruthless mercenary who fought and died for them, their sacrifice had certainly paid off.

It was over.

.

.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for not killing Tyler off. To be honest I jiggled things about a little by killing off my absolute _favourite_ character (Hobbes) and attempting to make Tyler a little more likable- I'm hoping it worked.


End file.
